


I Didn’t Mean To…

by ladyeternal



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Danno was drunk, Double Entendre, M/M, References To Kinky Sex, Steve McGarrett is a Little Shit, references to nekkididity, sexy cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting blind drunk is usually a bad idea.  Every once in a while, though, something good comes out of even the worst decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn’t Mean To…

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiptoe39](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/gifts).



> Spoilers: None I’m aware of. ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either version of Hawaii Five-0 and am only borrowing the 2010 version’s characters because I ♥ [tiptoe39](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39).
> 
> I slammed through a Wikipedia article, a Wikiquote collection & three OnDemand eps of H50 because my muse took [tiptoe39](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39)’s prompt and advised me to write her some Steve/Danny for her birthday. If it sucks, I'm _really_ sorry.
> 
> “Years from now when you talk of this… and you will… be kind.” – Deborah Kerr to John Kerr, Tea & Sympathy, MGM, 1956
> 
> Music: [I Didn’t Mean To Stay All Night – Starship](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Starship%3AI_Didn't_Mean_To_Stay_All_Night)

~ooooOOOoooo~

Sometimes, life just leaves you with two options at the end of a day: rampant consumption of alcohol or a homicidal rampage. Certain movies that made Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flannery look badass notwithstanding1, taking the second choice tended to be frowned upon, especially among law enforcement. Even more especially for members of a hand-picked task force that have a daughter they’d like to see _ever_ again.

It had been one of those nights. And Danny was one of those people. So getting blind stupid drunk in a bar seemed like the best option for dealing.

Somewhere between that decision and the ass-crack of mid-morning, Danny found himself waking up naked in his own bed, his mouth tasting like a re-opened grave and his sheets stinking of alcohol sweat. His eyes felt glued shut as he forced his aching limbs to function, needing to drag himself into the shower and wash off the previous night’s haze before Steve called him.

If Steve hadn’t already called. Hell, Steve could be on his way here right now, looking to find out if Danny’s was the next homicide they’d need to investigate.

He really needed to get that man on some Prozac or something.

It wasn’t until Danny had forced himself to slide out of the bed, supporting his weight on his bedside table, when the smell hit: sausage and steak fries, judging by the aroma and the vague memory of what he kept in his kitchen. Someone was here, making him a hangover breakfast. He’d brought someone home last night.

If it was Rachel, he was just gonna eat his gun. There was only so much a man could take.

Needing to face the music, Danny had just about hauled himself upright enough to yank the sheet off the bed and wrap it around himself when a familiar, not-Rachel voice rumbled at him from the doorway.

“ ‘Bout time you got up, Danno. I was starting to think you were gonna sleep all day.”

“Steve?” Danny nearly winced at how raspy his voice sounded, managing to get the sheet tucked a little tighter around his waist as Steve came forward with a half-filled mug of steaming hot coffee. “What’re you doing here?”

“I brought you home last night, genius.” Steve’s blue eyes danced, a smile tugging at his lips. “But since you were hammered out of your mind, I’m betting you don’t remember.”

Danny took a sip of the coffee, giving a quick negative shake of his splitting skull. It wasn’t quite the truth, but much of last night was lost in a fog he’d quite willingly rolled in over his senses. “Least this means I don’t have to worry about you breaking down my door ‘cause I’ve missed your fifteen calls and you think I’ve been axe-murdered.”

“Not too many axes on the island,” Steve returned lightly. “If you had been, it’d almost be a cakewalk to find the perp.” He then nudged Danny’s elbow. “Go get a shower; you smell like ass. Food’s almost done.”

The very thought of putting something in his roiling stomach made Danny queasy, but he retreated into the shower as quickly as he could anyway. He _really_ reeked.

* * *

Hot water and lather had Danny feeling more human and less like something that crawled out of a landfill, and by the time he joined Steve for breakfast, his stomach had stopped rioting over the idea of some grease to go with the coffee. Steve served up two plates without comment, and the two sat in companionable silence with the shades drawn until the food had disappeared from their plates.

“So,” Steve started casually as they leaned back in their chairs. “How often do you go to bars for Deep Throats2?”

Danny very nearly wrenched something as he choked and sputtered on the mouthful of coffee he’d just drunk. Steve was up and pounding him on the back as he fought to breathe normally again, and by the time Danny could draw air and speak without coughing, his mind had wrapped around what Steve had just said. “What?”

“I asked you how often you go get Deep Throats in bars,” Steve repeated, sitting back down. “It’s a fairly simple question.”

“I don’t!” Danny protested. “Are you crazy, man; if Rachel ever found out-”

“That’s what you were slamming back when I got to the bar,” Steve elaborated. His eyes never stopped sparkling. “You were doing a decent job of keeping up with the frat boys, too. Must be some Irish in you someplace.”

Danny started to protest. Shut his mouth. He remembered nights back in college, early years on the force, when he’d discovered mixed drinks with naughty names. Had made no few conquests because of those little word-plays, too. “How many did I have?” he finally groaned.

“My count was six before I realized I’d better drag you home and pour you into bed.” A tiny smile, heartlessly amused. “Who knows how many before that. You can really put ‘em away, Danno.”

A groan escaped and Danny let his head tip back, closing his eyes. He could only imagine how raving plastered he’d been when Steve arrived, and even worse, what was likely to have come out of his mouth when his white knight had gathered him back to his apartment. “What did I say?”

“Oh, not much,” Steve assured him, sounding completely insincere. “Just how you’d give me one for real if I wanted, how you think about sucking me off during stake-outs, how you wish I’d tie you up and-”

Danny was up from the table in a moment, his body protesting but his head needing to put more space between them. He vanished into the bedroom in an instant, looking for his 5-0 badge and weapon.

Steve’s hand covered his as Danny was pulling them from the locked bedside table. “Danny-”

“I’ll resign if you want,” he offered quietly. “Just don’t tell anyone why. I can get a job working private security, stay close to Grace, as long as we keep it between us why I left.”

The silence hung heavy in the air. Steve’s hand was warm over Danny’s: grounding. Soothing. “I enjoy Sloe Comfortable Screws3, myself,” Steve finally admitted softly. “I’d love to knot you up and show you just how slow.” Danny turned his head up to face him, eyes large and surprised and defenseless. “And I won’t hold you to that whole d-t thing, unless you really want to.”

Carefully, hesitating, Danny leaned up and pressed his lips to Steve’s. He didn’t close his eyes until their lips touched, wanting to watch until the last possible second in case Steve was messing with him.

He wasn’t. He let Danny kiss him, soft and slow, learning the feel of each other’s mouths, chasing the aftertaste of coffee and toothpaste until neither one was sure who tasted like what. Steve’s other hand slid around Danny’s waist, and Danny let one hand creep up to play with the short hair at the nape of Steve’s neck.

When their lips finally parted, something new and fragile springing to life in the space between their parted mouths, Steve’s ice-blue eyes took on their familiar teasing glint. “Why the Hell do you drink a girly drink like that, anyway?”

“It’s totally a cop shot,” Danny protested. “It’s got coffee in it and everything.”

“Wasn’t keeping you awake last night,” Steve taunted. “You were asleep before I even got you past the couch.”

Danny’s smile went crooked, his eyebrows twitching up in challenge. “First one to fall asleep does so in the wet spot.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1- Boondock Saints, Franchise Pictures, 1999
> 
> 2- Deep Throat: Equal parts Tia Maria or other coffee liqueur, vanilla vodka and heavy cream, layered in order in a shot glass
> 
> 3- Sloe Comfortable Screw: Equal parts sloe gin and Southern Comfort, with a splash of orange juice, served in an old-fashioned glass


End file.
